


Like a Supernova

by exmachinarium



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Lance has a dirty mind, M/M, Mutual Masturbation, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, why pine for Shiro alone when they can do it together?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-19
Updated: 2016-07-19
Packaged: 2018-07-25 12:43:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7533232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/exmachinarium/pseuds/exmachinarium
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's not like anyone would steal that gaudy thing, even if there were more than seven people on board total. And it's not like Keith couldn't just go back and fetch it himself after he got over... whatever was wrong with him.</p><p>Or: Lance decides to play nice and take care of Keith's jacket only to find himself in a rather peculiar situation.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Like a Supernova

**Author's Note:**

> Once again written for my wife, because when you love somebody, you write them space twink porn. Don't question it.
> 
> Huge thanks to everyone who left kudos and commented(!) on my previous klance fic, Dream A Little Dream Of Me. I'll try to reply when I'm a bit less braindead. For now I'll only say that reading through your kind words made me all mushy inside. Hope you'll enjoy this one as well!

Another epic space fight, another planet (well, more like an asteroid, but why stop there) freed of Galra. And, as luck would have it, another tactical meeting afterwards. Everyone welcomed it with groans and 'not agains'. But whatever Shiro says, goes. That's the unwritten rule of the team.

Luckily, this time he kept it brief. Everyone performed by the book, so much so that forming Voltron wasn't even necessary. Of course Keith got his own share of praises, but for once that was also justified — much as it pained Lance to admit it.

Then, just like that, things turned really, really weird. And then back to normal again, which struck Lance as even weirder. The meeting dissolved naturally. Hunk gravitated towards the nearest control panel, Pidge following on his heels, struggling with her laptop and muttering angrily about some space malware. Shiro, Allura and Coran handled the outline of the next mission, like the workaholics they were (well, to his credit, Coran at least looked mildly disinterested), while Keith...

Well, unless he mastered some ancient art of stealth, he had already left the deck. All that remained was his jacket, slung haphazardly over the back of the couch. Without thinking, Lance grabbed it on his way out.

Which was a pretty stupid move, really. It's not like anyone would steal that gaudy thing, even if there were more than seven people on board total. And it's not like Keith couldn't just go back and fetch it himself after he got over... whatever was wrong with him. It was all very blink and you'll miss it; hard to wrap your head around.

Weirdness piled up as Lance's feet somehow led him in the right direction. Sort of. He wasn't sure if he should blame some kind of Voltron telepathy or just his bad luck. The fact remained: he didn't use that corridor, ever. Yet there he was. And so was Keith.

Lance probably noticed him only because he was, all in all, looking for him. Without the red jacket (currently in Lance's possession), Keith easily blended in the shadows of a side passage. From where Lance stood, he could see Keith's silhouette, arms rising and falling erratically, body shaking. Was he... crying?

No, it wasn't that. It wasn't that at all.

Realization hit Lance like a ton of bricks. His hands broke in sweat, fingers digging into the material of Keith's jacket. He should just walk away, pretend he didn't see a thing. Just like he tried to pretend he didn't see anything on the deck.

Apparently his mouth had a better idea.

"Man, stop yanking it like that, you'll tear it off!"

It worked as well as expected. Keith looked up and froze on the spot. Like a very small animal that suddenly got all the headlights in the world aimed straight at it. In other circumstances Lance would probably find it hilarious. Now it just made his mouth go dry.

He should probably say something. But what? Hopefully something smarter than he just had, though that was a low bar. The more he tried to come up with something, anything, the more his thoughts zoomed in on that single moment. Shiro's hand slipping from Keith's shoulder, accidentally grazing his side. Keith going rigid as if he got electrocuted, eyes instantly wide and unfocused.

Gotcha.

"Ever imagined getting Shiro to fuck you on all fours? Because I have."

Keith apparently needed a moment to remember he's a living, breathing thing. But even then his scowl was not entirely on point.

"What?" was all he managed to choke out. Lance took it as a cue to go on.

"Hey, it's not like you're the only one entitled to dirty fantasies about our dear team leader. I bet everyone on the ship has a handful of those, Shiro himself included. I mean, if I were him, I'd gladly do myself, too, no judging."

Keith eyed him wearily, eyes narrowing with every step forward Lance took.

"You're crazy."

"Says the guy who's been trying to detach his dick standing in an abandoned corridor of a castle spaceship." He smirked triumphantly as Keith's cheeks flushed red.

Lance stopped at arm's length from Keith.

"Listen. I'm not going to rat you out, if that's what you're afraid of. But I can lend you a hand. Literally."

That last bit was so out of the blue, it took even Lance himself by surprise. Keith must have also been in a deep state of shock, because instead of storming off or threatening Lance with his signature knife, he nodded. Suddenly very aware of every single particle of his body, Lance moved close enough for their chests to touch. Using his left hand to prop himself against the wall, he gently knocked Keith's hand out of the way with his right and wrapped it around the half–hard cock. Keith's chest rose with a sharp inhale, reminding Lance just how close they were.

"Since we both know your imagination sucks, I'll do the talking," he stated, a little too loud. Mostly to make himself feel less nervous about the whole deal. Act casual, just act casual.

"Why talk at all?" And Keith of course had to ruin it.

"Because you can't just jerk off... or get jerked off to nothing. You must set the mood and we both know you'd suck at it. That's why, prepare for a nice, hard dose of filthy scenarios by yours truly." He pumped Keith's dick for emphasis, finally managing to cut all protests short.

Moving his hand up and down Keith's length at a slow, relaxed pace, Lance sifted through the options. Finally, he settled on the obvious: Shiro's mechanical arm. He talked about how odd it would feel to have that hand roam all over your body, further and further south. How the Galra armour seemed cold at first touch but then absorbed warmth until the sensation would be almost organic. Ever since they shook hands in Keith's shack, the feeling of Shiro's hand in his was stuck somewhere at the back of Lance's mind. If he licked Shiro's fingers, would that make sparks race through his tongue, like with a battery? Would it electrify him in the same way it did with Keith?

(Would Lance's hand have the same effect?)

Keith's hand against his stomach made Lance's voice hitch.

"Sorry, not much there," he joked it off, "at least not in comparison to Shiro's killer abs. You know what I'd really want to do? Just... climb in his lap and rub myself all over those rock–hard muscles. Tell me it's not just me."

If the jerk of Keith's hips was anything to go by, the sentiment was shared. Even more so when another jerk hit Lance in just the right spot. He hissed, the hand on Keith's dick going slack. Keith tensed almost immediately, eyes focusing (with some effort) on Lance's face.

"What's wrong?"

His pupils were perfectly round and the rasp in his voice made Lance's insides do a backflip. _Casual, casual, damn it!_

"Remember, Mullet, these are _my_ filthy fantasies about our hot as all fuck head lion... Hey, that's a good one, go me. Anyway. Don't hog all the fun and just... give me a minute to figure it out, will you?"

He barely made it through the zipper, right hand still around Keith's dick, when he got rudely shoved away. Before he managed to open his mouth to complain, Keith's already wiggled past the layers of clothing and paused inches from where they were urgently needed. Lance looked up, demanding explanation.

"You do me, I do you?"

Keith's tone was flat, but he refused to look Lance in the eye. Lance shrugged.

"Fair enough. Just, you know, easy on the joystick. I don't have detachable parts, unlike some on board. Speaking of which..."

With Keith pumping his cock in return, Lance began to have hard time coordinating his own actions and remembering he's supposed to make any amount of sense. Images raced through his head, past any sort of filter, just straight out his mouth. Getting fucked inside Shiro's Lion; pushing his face between those incredible thighs and feeling the cool metal of Shiro's hand on the back of his neck (Keith covered his mouth, but the moan was still audible). Getting fingered on top of the control panel, safety be damned; or landing smack in the middle of a steaming hot Shiro–Allura sandwich–

Keith's hand stopped.

"If you think Allura isn't capable of wrecking a man–" Lance rasped out, thoroughly annoyed.

"I'm not saying she isn't. She's just not my... type."

Well, if that wasn't the most awkward confession he heard in a while. Not to mention unnecessary. Lance mentally reserved the right to tease Keith about it... later.

"Sorry," he huffed instead, then leaned in a bit more, lips nearly brushing Keith's ear. "How about this one?"

All of a sudden, Lance felt unsure. It seemed quite stupid after all the dirty thoughts he (over)shared with Keith already, but this one was... embarrassing. Or was that a bad way to describe it? Lance couldn't tell at this point anymore. So instead of mulling it over for who knows how long, he just went with it.

"Imagine getting it on with Shiro in 0 G. Just... try to picture it..."

The setting of that particular scenario changed a bit every time. For Keith's benefit, Lance went with the observation deck, its huge transparent windows opening into the seemingly endless space. Not even a full sentence in, Keith's free hand grasped at the small of Lance's back. He obediently moved closer, hushed voice guiding them both through the fantasy.

"Floating under the dome, Shiro's warmth pressed against your back, one hand between your legs, the other squeezing at your hip. You can't see him, but when you open your eyes there's just millions of stars and galaxies in front of you. Like diving in the ocean at night. Any minute you can just... drift away and that scares you. But he has your back, holds you, presses you against the cool glass..."

Keith stifled another moan, this time against Lance's shoulder. They shuddered in unison.

"So you are stuck between the two, like you're no longer yourself, like you're _something_ , something on the verge of _happening_. And then... fuck, he just pounds into you like... like..."

Words failed him — not that Keith was in any state to notice; he was reduced to a panting, writhing mess beneath Lance. Hell, Lance himself probably didn't look much better at this point.

While he was ranting away, Keith's hands slid down to his ass, squeezing it for dear life, pressing their bodies together like he wanted to mash them into a single entity. Barely managing to free the hand previously occupied with jerking Keith off, Lance slammed it hard against the wall and began to rut blindly against whatever part of Keith was the closest. Images in his head swirled, the heavy, all–encompassing weight on his back replaced with someone smaller, lither; the feeling of cold metal against his cock turning to leathery warmth. Only the vista in front of him remained the same, a vast expanse of stars travelling through nothingness.

All it took was one more desperate jerk of hips, one more squeeze, one more raw cry resonating down his collarbone, down every single bone in his body until it reached his very core that expanded and contracted rapidly until it finally exploded into blinding brightness, cancelling the world around like a massive supernova.

Lance's mind was still drifting in  the void when something gently tugged at his shoulder. Without opening his eyes, Lance nuzzled the side of Keith's face. He was pretty sure that if he'd move an inch, they'd both collapse to the floor. But they couldn't stay like that forever either.

"Hey, Keith, buddy… still with me?"

A hoarse grunt was as good a response as any.

"You probably hate this idea as much as I do, but we need to move. Come on."

On wobbly legs, they managed to somehow unglue themselves from the wall. Doing the same in regards to each other proved far more difficult, so in the end they just leaned on one another awkwardly and set off on their walk of shame to the nearest bedroom (Lance's).

As soon as the lock clicked shut, they collapsed on the bed with pained groans. After a moment of perfect stillness, Lance managed to turn his head vaguely in Keith's direction.

"We're never doing this again standing."

"So we are doing this again?" Keith grunted in response.

"Of all things... Ah, forget it. Too tired to actively hate you."

Keith made a sound that could come across as a chuckle, in charitable circumstances. Lance cracked a tired smile in response.

Silence ruled for another minute or two, until Lance finally gathered enough strength to prop himself on his arms — still shaky, hands sticky in a pretty disgusting manner.

"Keith, my man, my pal, my buddy. We need a shower."

" _You_ need a shower. Let me sleep."

"I'm pretty sure the shower thing is mutual. Come on," he rubbed the small of Keith's back, eliciting a soft purr, "I'll give you a hand."

**END**


End file.
